


Vanity Youth and Time

by KinkStone



Series: Overwatch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: No Ship, Old Age, old man angst, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkStone/pseuds/KinkStone
Summary: Vanity and youth make great friends. Where Vanity and time make bitter enemies. Jack finally comes to realize this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love old man Jack but I love the idea of him realizing he's old.

It was nothing but an under used guest suite of what was once a nice place. Now turned into a communal apartment run by a friendly old lady. A few holes in the roof, and the window didn't close all the way.. Not the best place Jack had ever holed up in, but it certainly was not the worst. The bed was decent for restful sleep and there were plenty of ways to get out quick if he needed to. The little old lady who lent him the place even made him hot meals. Sure he had to microwave it, but it was still home cooked and hot. Better than the rations and mre's he had been living on for how long now?

He sighed appreciatively when he stumbled in and saw the covered plate on the table. Grabbing it, he ripped off the aluminum to stick it in the microwave. 

While the tiny machined hummed away, Jack began to remove his gear, starting with the pulse rifle, sticking it by the bed. His jacket was next, slung across the chair. The visor was last, each piece removed one by one. Cool air kissing his face. Also placed by the bed. He'd put it back on before sleeping. Always had to be ready to make a quick escape. 

The microwaved beeped a few times, making jack jump and reach for the holstered gun in his leg. That would not be coming off. Always on his person in case of unexpected, unwelcomed guests. He scoffs at himself and grabs the plate, slamming the door shut. The chair squeaked as he pulled it away from the table, sitting down heavily. The aches of the day catching up with him. Nothing too bad. A few bruises here and there from the few hits the punks got on him. 

Could always be worse. Digging out a bullet on your own was never fun.

Jack had to remind himself not to shovel the food down quick. It was real food he could actually enjoy. Some sort of spiced chicken and rice. Simple and filling. He stopped mid bite, noting the other smaller plate on the other side of the table. Taking a quick peek, he smiled seeing the cake underneath he foil. He'd have to thank her personally for this one.

He ate the buttery vanilla cake while leaning against the table, checking through his communicator for any messages. A few contacts had details about weapons trading and gang activity. Nothing about Overwatch. Rarely did he get information on that little disaster. He got whispers now and then in support or opposition of the once glorious organization. When the useful tidbit of information caches or gear came his way, he was always quick to act and even quicker to leave. Stuff like that got attention on him faster than taking out local crime lords.

Jack stacked the plates on the table and headed to the bed. She'd be back tomorrow to fetch them and leave him more food. He almost reprimanded himself for not knowing her name, but names could make things messy. It's better to remain almost strangers to each other. She fed and housed him, while he took care of the riffraff trying to bother her. The only message catching his eye as he sat on the edge of the old mattress was that of a possible deal going on between two rival gangs. No doubt something of an alliance against him. He had been quite the menace to their mayhem recently. Ambushes in alleys. Stealing weapons cargo and dumping it. His personal favorite had to be when he "persuaded" their favorite crooked cop to go straight. 

The deal would go down in two days. Plenty of time to prepare. He could map out the place tomorrow and head back here to plan. Call in a favor or two if he needed it. 

Jack leaned down to undo his boots when he felt it. First he felt a crack then his lower back felt like he took a helix rocket point blank. He groaned, bracing himself on the side table. Bent over and huffing, he tried to straighten out, only to fall back and grunt. The pain began to radiate.

What was this? What the fuck was this? Jack couldn't think of getting hit there recently. Not even being slammed against a wall. In fact he had never been injured there. Why was he in so much pain? With more grunting, groaning and agonizing stretching, he managed to lay somewhat comfortably on the bed. Panting from the exertion.

"Fuck." He groaned, one arm thrown over his face. How was he suppose to prepare for that deal if he couldn't even move? Jack continued to lay there, trying to fall asleep. Maybe he could just sleep it off. As long as he remained perfectly still he didn't feel it. 

Jack felt a twinge of pain as he took a deep breath. 

If he could sleep.


End file.
